The entire house is crippled.

  Perhaps the ultimate poison had been slipped into this multi-stage meal served to the guards, any passing maids and butlers, and of course a Fourth Princess; that this very specific set of chemicals and flavors came together to attack the human body in its most fundamental place.

  Guardsman Mori Fushimi lies on the sofa as if a lifeless corpse, her breathing harsh and heavy from belly filled with delicious “taste-tested for poison” food. The Impericutta legionaries all sit upon chairs and sofas instead of standing, fallen within their plates of ceramic armor as they themselves falter to the human sin of gluttony. And some maids and butlers, who in theory should’ve already left for home in what was now the late night, had taken some level of initiative to instead stay in the servants quarters with their bellies stuffed with the buttery, meaty dishes of the Imperium.

  And Princess Sophia Elise, for the first time in months, was truly content with the volume of digesting food currently churning in her stomach as she lies in her floor bed half-asleep with this… much better version of The Crane Flies through a Mercury Sky.

  And beneath this vast starscape, within the gardens of this summer residence, Zai simply exists; feeling the warm breeze upon his skin and the dancing stars upon his eyes.

  The Crown Prince of Tianci can hear the middle aged man coming from a kilometer away, his footfalls heavy with leather hiking boots and the ruffling of light clothing. This Emperor-Consort allowing for his presence to be known far before any social encounter would need to be enforced by manners.

  But, in an odd sort of warmth, Zai Tianci remains as he is, sitting on one of the wrought iron chairs near the back entrance of this mansion; awaiting the arrival of his Father-In-Law.

  Maybe it was the result of a little too much indulgence, that so called ‘Harvest Stew’ perhaps too novel of an ethnic dish for this sheltered Tiancin Noble. Or maybe it was the shower of compliments laid upon him, supportive as he took the blade to vegetables and the searing hot pan to the flanks of meat.

  Or maybe it was this:

  “Hello Son.” Arden greets his own son-in-law with that almost obscene warmth, disrupting the cricket songs with his low, accented tone. “Mind if I join ya?”

  Zai notes that no guards are with this Consort at this moment; his personal attaché of ceramic demons split between either guarding his daughter’s room or out on patrol on the grounds this deeply dark night.

  Utterly alone, defenseless.

  “Of course not.” The Crown Prince of Tianci allows it.

  He sits with a grunt, settling onto the chair with a very large tin of coffee in hand. “Zai, I must say, you can cook. Goddess damned, you made me look like an amateur in there. In front of my own daughter, and my guards!”

  “I apologize.” Zai instinctively pulls back at that compliment.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Nah, don't be sad about being a good trad-husband.” He dismisses, turning over to stare up at the sky as well.

  And they sit there, letting the moments pass with only the drone of crickets and the small gusts of wind.

  Don’t forget: he’s an agent of the Imperium. Zai thinks to himself, taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves. Arden Marchland may seem kind to you, but he is Imperial. He’s the inner, inner circle of the Silver Throne. His word holds the power of Ensolia, the lynchpin of our entire continent.

  This man, this father in law of yours is no simple politician, he is politics.

  “Arden.” Zai doesn’t coat his next words with sugar, instead leaving them bitter and cold. “What does the Imperium want with my country?”

  “Right to it, huh?” That singular question, based in the highest echelons of national importance, doesn’t even shake the Mountain. Those brown eyes kept onwards to the sky above, the lukewarm cup of coffee brought to his lips before he answers this Prince’s question. “You listen to my five o’clock show, Son?”

  No point in lying. “I do, on occasion.”

  The Emperor-Consort smiles. “I’ll let you in on a secret: right before we start recording a show, I tell every guest that it’s ok to lie on the air; just a little bit. Because in this world, the truth is often much more dangerous than just a small lie. When my wife came on the air with me, she lied. She lied about how the Peace Talks with the Axials were going, she lied about how simple it was to balance her life at home and in Court; because the truth would have shaken the foundations of the Imperium, and our family. The truth, at that moment, was dangerous. And so, it couldn’t be spoken of.”

  He turns to stare at this young Tiancin man. “Zai, I will not extend that luxury to you tonight. And in exchange, I ask that you don’t indulge me either. Only the truth, is that alright?”

  Zai Tianci looks around, ensuring privacy and hiding a disbelief on his face at these insane words from this man of the Silver Throne. “O-of course.”

  “You asked what the Imperium wanted from the Dominion. What do you think we want?”

  “Arcanite.” The young Prince gives the obvious answer, not even attempting to hide this Imperial atrocity upon his people. “You’re here for the corpses of the ancient ones. You’re here to rape my country, take everything it ever was for yourself… like your people have always done.”

  Arden doesn’t move, instead just staring at his son-in-law. “That’s one part of it.” He doesn’t deny it, he doesn’t lie. “We’ve taken measurements, performed clandestine surveys in your country… long before this true alliance came to fruition. There are thousands, perhaps millions of tons of arcanite buried in the Dominion. Even the body of Paguaeja, the Destroyer, in Sanji could be enough to launch our world into a new era.”

  The cold, heartless calculus of power.

  “And my father sold it all to you.” Zai Tianci says quietly, almost under his breath. “He sold it all… for what? Money? Power? Just a few more years in the Palatial Temple?”

  “You know why, Son.” Arden allows Zai to speak the truth instead of himself.

  “Money to keep the Rifle Regiments paid, power to keep the Southerners in line… and your Silver Imperium to keep the Axial Powers at bay.” The Crown Prince coughs, almost crying to himself. “He sold everyone to you.”

  Arden sighs too. “You read the Landfall Treaty right?”

  “I have.”

  “Then you know the gambit’s that’s being played.” Arden continues. “This is for the Dominion’s future. If he can keep it together for a few more years, if he can keep the High Court from eating itself before the arcanite wealth begins to flow in, it could just work.”

  “It won’t.” Prince Zai Tianci informs this agent of the Imperium. “It will never work. If this continues, the Dominion is dead.”